


Skyrim: Holiday in Tamriel

by CourierMix



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, College of Winterhold - Freeform, Companions, Dovahzul (Elder Scrolls), Dragons, Dubious Ethics, Gen, Light-Hearted, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Language, Moral Ambiguity, My First AO3 Post, NPCs are people too, No Smut, Nonverbal Communication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Serious, Stormcloaks are racist, Tags Are Hard, Thalmor are Racist, Unreliable Narrator, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierMix/pseuds/CourierMix
Summary: Skyrim AU where two people get dropped into the cart instead of one. Both with different roles to play. Both with different abilities to guide them. Light-hearted characters with serious themes. Rated M for language mostly. So, you want to hear another story huh?
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Original Male Character(s)





	1. Finally Awake

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting to AO3, Don't judge me for the formatting please.

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Elder Scrolls. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.

_ So, you want to hear another story huh? One where the fate of Nirn hangs in the balance? Well too bad, I’m telling you anyway. No, I don’t care if you’ve heard it a hundred times before. _

_ Now, this isn’t the exact same as the game you played. Hopefully you have played it, but just in case I will make the first chapter as descriptive as possible. Don’t worry, I’ve added my own little twist >:). Anyways, let’s start at the beginning, with two young fools almost a year out of their teens from a little planet called Earth. _

* * *

Two horse drawn wagons bumped along the old cobblestone road in single file. One leather armored man each at the reins, and a somewhat mixed group of people with their hands bound filling the rough benches of each wooden vehicle. Up front, a man on horseback, and another man not unlike the drivers rode behind.

The road was windy and descending down a small mountain side, a thick pine forest barely a foot from the road. The pine leaves had an early frost to them, and there was an occasional splatter of snow in the trees, most likely from the previous night. The sun wasn’t in sight as there was a decent fog making the road beyond barely visible. Not one of the people in the convoy paid any of this any mind though.

In the second wagon sat five men. On the right side, a man with long blonde hair in simple light chain mail and leather calmly sat and stared at the men across from him, to his left was a mousy looking man in rags with an upset look on his face. On the left side, a burly, blonde man with a big coat that hid heavy, well crafted armor underneath sat towards the back. His mouth was gagged and had his head ducked down seemingly in contemplation. Lastly, on the large man’s left, were two young men. The one closest to him had short dirty blonde hair and a shaven face. The other one had dirty blonde hair down to his shoulders and a small curly ginger beard. Both were scrawny, pale, and could be mistaken for teens all compared to the others next to them. The two were dead to the world, but not for long.

Their wagon hit a larger than normal hole in the road. While it didn’t stop, it did however jolt all of the riders, and snapped the dreamer with long hair awake. His eyes shot open darting every which way, body jerked to attention despite the minor cramps, nose sharply took in the cold, fresh air, and smelled a forest with some curious scent unknown to him. An overwhelming sense of recognition flooded through his thoughts, and confusion took its place. Expectantly, he looked left and saw the wagon ahead and the rocky road, but the fog blocked off any other sights beyond that. Assured, he looked right and saw something completely unexpected, his friend of several years sat in rags next to him, his mouth was gagged but he was asleep. It was at this moment he realized he was wearing the same ragged clothes, his mouth was also gagged, and his hands were bound tight with some simple rough rope. Past his sleeping friend he saw the burly man, and remembered where he was.

The recently awoken boy looked across from him to the man in front of him, expecting to be talked to. Their eyes met, but surprisingly the other man immediately looked away to watch the road in front of them. Shocked, the young man looked back to his friend who was still asleep, the beginnings of panic started to show on his face. Hurriedly, he nudged his friend.

The sleeping one stirred slowly, a muffled groan escaped the gag. Then, slowly there was some movement from the cloth covering his mouth. His eyes slowly opened, brows furrowed in annoyance. The boy on the left nudged him again. Now awake, he eyed his friend in confusion, and then observed their surroundings. Recognition, then realization shifted through his face, and he looked the first boy in the eye. In a moment of quiet connection, they both watched as a deep panic flowed through each other.

Finally, after a moment's silence and a shiver from the boys, the long haired man in front of them began to speak.

“Hey, y-”

As he started the word, “you,” it slowed and slurred, as did everything around the two young men until everything ground to a halt. The air around the duo seemed frozen, not a thing in sight even so much as breathed. 

Time had stopped.

In the space above them a tear in reality opened up and a glowing dragon’s head reached out and looked at the two with its eyes of golden light. It’s maw opened and a flow of a glowing red liquid defied the laws of physics and swirled to the first man, a name appeared in his mind.

**Magnus Well-Spring**

The dragon then cut the flow and then started a new one, this one glows green and flowed to the second man. A name appeared in his mind.

**Hroðr Bright-Hold** (AN: Hroðr is pronounced Hroethr)

The glowing beast closed its maw and then looked at them one last time, nodded, and sunk back into the tear. Time began to flow again.

“You two are finally awake.” The blonde man glanced between the two of them. “You boys were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there!”

The mousy man spoke up at this, “Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell.” He looked at Magnus and Hroðr, “You two there. You boys and me - we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

Magnus and Hroðr looked at each other, the former shrugged, obviously haven’t been paying attention, the latter shook his head lightly in exasperation. The blonde man retorts, “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” He punctuates this by bringing up his bound hands and tugging attempts to pull at them.

The Imperial driver spoke up, “Shut up back there!”

The mousy man, ever the rebel, continued to talk, “What’s wrong with him?” He looks at the burly man.

“Watch your tongue!” The Stormcloak all but shouted, “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” 

The horse thief’s eyebrows shot up, “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you…” His voice began to shake, eyes darted to each of us, “Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

The long haired blonde man sat back and looked to the road, “I don’t know where we are going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“No, this can’t be happening.” The mousy man in rags put his head in his bound hands and said with a shaky voice, “This isn’t happening.”

For a moment they just listened to the wagon roll on, then the long haired man asked, “Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

Horse-thief looked at him, eyes narrowed, “Why do you care?”

He responded back softly, “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

Horse-thief said finally, “Rorikstead... I’m from Rorikstead.”

Throughout this conversation, Magnus was lost in thought. Having heard this all over a hundred times before, he stopped listening after time resumed. The dragon raised many questions in his mind, how different would this world be compared to the game he played? What role would Hroðr and he fill? Was he the main character? Was that dragon even who he thought it was? How did they even get here in the first place? What happened last night? Was he going crazy?

… Were they dead?

The fog had cleared, ahead the convoy approached the gate of a small, fortified village. To the right just off the road was a wooden pole with three different signs, the one pointing at the gate read “Helgen” and the others illegible. Magnus took a moment to look at the clouds in the morning sky and sighed through his nose. At the same time, Hroðr watched the guards above the gate, and focused on ahead through the gate. From above the entryway through the walls a guard called out, “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!”

The man on horse back up at the front responded, “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

Horse-thief clasped his hands, looked to the sky, and began to pray, “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”

The five prisoner’s wagon slowly moved through the gate, passing some people in plain looking clothing carrying some type of supplies. Once on the other side, the wagon turned left. They saw wood houses with hay topped roofs, stone towers and a stone keep behind them. In what seemed like every direction was a waving black banner with the red insignia of a dragon forming a diamond. Just to the right of the entrance, the General pulled his horse up to some finely robed people on their own horses. They had golden skin, long faces, pointy ears, and their faces twisted as if they smelled something fowl. Tullius and the golden ones began to have quiet conversation, which was drowned out by the ranting of the Stormcloak.

“General Tullius, the military governor.” He spat, “And it looks like the Thalmor are with him.” At the word, “Thalmor,” he actually did spit. “Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this.” 

The bitter blonde let out a sigh and looked around. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” He looked at one of the many flags and shook his head, “Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

The man in the wagon quieted. Up ahead, a little boy's voice rang out. “Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?” 

Hroðr looked to the left of the wagon and observed a boy and his father in front of their house. The father responded back to the boy gravely, “You need to go inside, little cub.”

“Why? I want to watch the soldiers.” The child spoke with innocent curiosity.

“Inside the house. Now.” The father said firmly.

“Yes Papa…” With that, Hroðr watched as the boy sluggishly obeyed.

The wagon ahead of them slowed down as it strolled into the small town square, which was situated between two stone towers and a wall. The one to the right was a little taller than the houses, the one on the left was twice as tall, and the wall was on the far side, cutting the square off from the keep if it wasn’t for the split in it to allow passage. A house sat to the right of the left tower and a couple on its porch watched the wagons with an Imperial soldier. 

“Woahhh,” said the driver of the first wagon to the horse pulling them. The wagon parked just in front of the house, leaving some space for the second wagon. As the second one rolled to the spot, a woman's firm voice sounded out. “Get these prisoners out of the carts, move it!”

Coming through the split in the wall were three people; a heavily armored, strict woman who was the one ordering the soldiers, a man wearing black with a hood with holes for his eyes and mouth covering his head, and another woman in thick yellow robes.

The horse thief spoke hurriedly, “Why are we stopping?”

“Why do you think? End of the line.” The Stormcloak responded with a dooming finality. 

At last, their wagon stopped. Magnus, still lost in thought, was nudged by the blonde in front of him. 

“Let’s go. Shouldn’t leave the gods waiting for us.” At this, Magnus sighed out of his nose in response.

They all stood up, Ulfric up front, Horse-thief after him, Hroðr and Magnus next, and lastly the long haired blonde.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!” The mousy thief cried.

From behind, the rebel scoffed, “Face your death with some courage, thief.”

One by one, they jumped out of the wagon. The thief continued to plead, “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

The Imperial soldier that rode behind them had a small paper in his hands. The armored woman from before yelled out to the prisoners, “Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!”

The blonde that never seemed to stop talking groaned, “Empire loves their damned lists.”

The soldier with the paper spoke with some subtle accent, “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” The chatty rebel shouted. Oddly, the soldiers ignored this.

“Ralof of Riverwood.” The blonde stepped forward and followed his Jarl.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.” 

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” At this, the horse thief makes a break for it.

“Halt!” The strict woman shouted.

“You’re not going to kill me!”

“Archers!”

Magnus and Hroðr knew what would happen, but they couldn’t help but watch. Lokir made it several meters before anything happened. Then, an archer from one of the towers fired and the arrow sang for a split second.

Just like a puppet with its strings cut, Lokir was dead.

The armored woman nodded with satisfaction and turned to the rest of the prisoners, “Anyone else feel like running?”

“Wait, you two.” The soldier with the list's eyebrows scrunched up and he looked at Magnus and Hroðr strangely, “Step forward. Who are you?”

The duo looked at each other and then looked at the soldier. An awkward moment passed as the man realized that they were gagged. “Err, well, you two look like Nords... “

Magnus nodded at this. Hroðr tilted his head, gave a small shrug, then nodded too.

The soldier sighed, “Well, you two picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsmen.” He looked to the armored woman, “Captain, what should we do? They’re not on the list.”

Her eyes narrowed and looked at the duo closely, “Forget the list. They go to the block.”

“By your orders, Captain.” The soldier looked between Magnus and Hroðr with a frown on his face and spoke mournfully, “I’m sorry. At least you two will die here, in your homeland.” He stands up straight, hardens himself, and points to his right, “Follow the Captain, prisoners.”

The two “Nords” walk behind the Imperial Captain to the left until they are with the rest of the captives. They all surrounded a small stone chopping block. Standing next to the block facing the small crowd of prisoners was the man in black, in his hands was a large axe with a jagged red blade. To his right stood the woman in yellow robes, to her right stood the armored Captain.Behind them was the shorter stone tower. General Tullius, coming in from the passage from whence the Captain came, walks up to Ulfric Stormcloak. The General wears a finely crafted muscle cuirass, it has golden designs up the abdominal area to the pectoral area, and in the center of his chest is the golden symbol of the Empire. Overall Tullius’ armor reminded Magnus and Hroðr of the ancient Roman Empire from their world.

The General, having a stare down with the Leader of the Rebellion, began to speak, “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Ulfric grunts through his gag in an attempt to protest. Tullius continues, “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!”

An odd, low pitched screeching noise cuts through the morning quiet from deep into the distant mountains, echoing and haunting. Magnus’ muscles tightened and stiffened. He looked to Hroðr who had reacted similarly, worry was written on both of their faces. A few people around them looked around trying to triangulate the source. 

The soldier that had the list wondered aloud, “What was that?”

Tullius, unfazed and still looking Ulfric in the eye, attempted to ease the people, “It’s nothing. Carry on.”

  
“Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites.” ordered the captain as Tullius walked away to watch from a distance.

The woman in yellow robes raises her arms with a wide berth, signifying a type of blessing, or worshipping, gesture called Orans, but in this case her palms faced the sky. 

She began the last rites, “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved--”

As she spoke, a redheaded Stormcloak walks up and interrupts her, “For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with.”

“As you wish…” She said bitterly, face looking like she bit a lemon. Magnus shook his head,  _ ‘Maybe if the man didn’t lose his head, he wouldn’t have lost his... Hah, whatever.’  _ He thought.

“Come on, I haven’t got all morning.” The redhead said impatiently as he shoved to his knees at the block by the captain, “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

He put his head down and didn’t have to wait long. The headsman eagerly brought his axe down. With a clean cut, the Stormcloak’s head rolled into an awaiting basket, the body slumping to its side with a thud.

Magnus stared then slowly closed his eyes, and let out a shaky sigh through his nose. Hroðr flinched at the sight, and decided staring anywhere else was a better view. Someone cried out, “You Imperial bastards!” Which set off two others, “Justice!” “Death to the Stormcloaks!” 

Ralof, the blonde from the wagon, spoke up, “As fearless in death as he was in life.”

“Next, the long haired Nord in the rags!” Shouted the captain.

The odd noise screeched out once more, much closer than before. Magnus grew more tense and shifted uneasily. He looked at Hroðr who looked at him with worry, and just nodded with a false confidence.

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” The curious soldier wondered aloud.

The captain, ever the steadfast soldier, repeated herself firmly, “I said, next prisoner!”

“To the block prisoner. Nice and easy.” said the sympathetic Imperial.

Magnus, gathering some resolve, walked to the block. The captain came up behind him and pushed him to his knees. He remembered the blood of the previous man and when the captain put her foot on his back he tried to keep upwards. The captain, unfazed, simply powered through his resistance easily. Magnus looked up at the headsman in an attempt to keep his face away from the blood, but it was already on his rags. The captain walked to the side, and the headsman brought up his axe and looked the young man in the eye but the shouts of his superiors halted him.

“What in Oblivion is that?!” yelled out Tullius.

“Sentries!” The captain shouted, “What do you see?”

“It’s in the clouds!” A soldier yelled back.

Magnus watched as a massive, dark as night, red-eyed monster landed on top of the tower behind the headsman, sharp wings draped over the sides. On impact, the executioner collapsed to the side. 

For a moment, Magnus and the beast stared one another in the eye.

“Dragon!”

At that, the dragon bellowed out a thunderous wave of force at Magnus, but the headsman attempted to get up, got in the way, and slammed the man into the ground, killing him instantly. Magnus was rocked around, he fell backwards and dove for the ground, ears ringing.

Chaos followed.

* * *

  
  


_ But Magnus! That doesn't tell us anything! Well yeah I know, that's because I had my face in the dirt, and a cacophony of screams and roars is the only way I can describe it, hence "Chaos". _

_ Look, what matters is that Hroðr reached me through it all and helped me up. Turns out, the big bad dragon had used some power to create some sort of storm that shot flaming boulders out of it. So, we had to hightail it out of there. _

_ How do you know what Magnus saw? Do you know him? Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet. Of course I know him, he’s me. In fact, I’m switching perspectives. _

* * *

"Hey, kinsmen! Get up!" Ralof was there with us watching the skies. Noticing that I finally got up he yelled at us, "Come on lads, the gods won't give us another chance!"

Hroðr and I started towards the man, seeing this he turned and ran for the open door in the taller tower. We ran almost faster than our legs could carry us, Ralof made it through the door, Hroðr just on his heels turned to see if I made it only to see me dive and stumble haphazardly through as the door slammed shut. We all took a moment to breathe.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof began, turns out the Jarl was the one who closed the door, the rebel continued, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?!"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric said in that deep unique voice of his. "We need to move, now!"

Not going to lie, that was hot. At his leader's order, Ralof nodded and looked to us, "Up through the tower. Let's go!" He started up the spiral stone stairs and made a beckoning motion with his arm, "This way friends! move!"

Ralof in the lead, we raced up the stairs. Almost at the second floor we see a Stormcloak digging through some rubble on some more stairs. He began to yell something, but was drowned out by the dragons head ramming through the wall. Ralof, yelling to get back, hopped towards Hroðr and I back down the stairs. Anticipating this, we were able to help make sure he didn't fall down.

I heard the monster speak, " **Toor Shul!** " And somehow I knew the poor guy was a goner. After the fire cut out, and the dragon flew away from the tower, we cautiously completed our ascent up to the second floor. The three of us took a moment to watch the chaos from the hole the beast made, and Ralof spotted our escape route.

"See the inn on the other side?" He pointed just below us at what I previously thought was a house, it was closer than I thought it would be. There was a big hole in its roof and the floor was jumping distance away. Ralof directed us, "Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow you two when we can!"

Hroðr and I looked at each other. I got a running start and jumped, bending my knees when I landed, and bounced back upwards a little. After a second I stood and looked at my friend, nodded at him, and he took his jump, rolling when he landed. Ralof went back into the tower so I ran to the hole in the floor across the room and jumped down, Hroðr following. Outside the inn, the man we later learn is Hadvar is getting the boy from before to safety.

"Everyone get back!" We all ducked as the dragon landed and burned some poor soul to ash. It took to the air once more and Hadvar spoke to us, "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He looked to another man, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

Hadvar and the two of us ran between a house and a wall, but we were stopped by the dragon landing on the wall above us, thankfully facing away.

" **Yol Toor Shul!** " The beast lit up some soldier point blank, turning him to ash. Then it leaped into the sky.

Hroðr and I were in a state of shock at watching this. Luckily, our adrenaline put us on autopilot to follow Hadvar, who ran through a house to the main gate where General Tullius, a crew of archers, and a few mages stood in an attempt to fight the unstoppable monster. 

Tullius notices us and yells, "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"

Hadvar looked to us and put his hands on each of our shoulders, "It's you and me, prisoners, stay close!" 

Amidst the chaos, we collectively ran to the keep, Hadvar watching the skies, until we ran into Ralof who was also running to the keep.

"Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!" Hadvar yelled.

"We're escaping, Hadvar!" Ralof yelled back, "You're not stopping us this time!"

I stepped in between them and jerked my bound hands around to get their attention. Ralof just grabbed onto me and dragged me in an inescapable grip to the keep and said, "Come on! Into the keep!"

"Fine. Let’s go prisoner!" Hadvar angrily dragged Hroðr to another door to the keep yelling, "Come on! We need to get inside!"

From there, I lost sight of my only friend in this world as Ralof shoved me through the door.

* * *

_ This story ain’t so bad is it...? Tch, everyone’s a critic. Too bad, I ain’t stopping now. _

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading! Follow if you want to see more, just one will encourage me to go on. Who am I kidding? I am totally writing more of this. Leave a review if you have any tips or ideas, I will take them into consideration. Sorry if you didn’t like it. Have a good one!


	2. Unbound

Skyrim: Holiday in Tamriel

_Back again are we? I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. It is an intriguing story is it not? So where were we… Ah yes. Helgen Keep._

* * *

When the door closed, I fell to the floor, taking a moment to just cough and breathe. Ralof walked to the other side of the room, and found the body of a Stormcloak.

Taking a deep breath he said, "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." With a sigh he looks over at me laying on the floor, "Looks like we're the only ones that made it."

I grunt.

"That thing was a dragon." He continued, "No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times."

We sat in silence for a moment, just breathing. Then he walked and stood over me, looking me in the eye he said finally, "We better get moving."

I put my bound hands up and he clasped them, pulling me to my feet easily.

"Here, let's see about getting those bindings off." I put my hands forward and he pulled a dagger out of his belt, he spoke as he cut through the rope, "There you go. I didn't get your name, friend. Mine's Ralof."

I turned my head and reached up to give room for the knife to cut the gag, once free I let out a sigh and cleared my throat.

"Magnus" I test. Not too bad for a guy who just ran through fire.

"Huh, not what I would have picked for you." He said with a raised eyebrow, putting his knife away.

I let out a laugh, then shrugged and said, "Me neither."

"Well, you may as well as take Gunjar's gear…" He walked over to the body and started to take said gear off carefully, "He won't be needing it anymore."

I walked over and looked at what was once a living human being. I had seen a few in my time on Earth, and a lot if you count through a screen. This wasn't too different, but it helped that I didn't know him. Even though I wasn't too unsettled by that, the idea of wearing a recently dead man's clothes unnerved me, but before I said anything, Ralof pointed something out.

"Wouldn't want you to run around in bloody rags."

I immediately was reminded of the tunic I was wearing and nearly puked. Hurriedly, I threw off the tunic, but stopped at the simple trousers, realizing that I had nothing on underneath.

Ralof handed me the chain mail, it was heavier than it looked, but when I put it on it wasn't too bad. I wasn't as scrawny as Hroðr, but compared to Ralof I was a kid. I personally tugged the fur boots off of Gunjar's limp feet and fastened them on. The blonde also helped me with the quilted leather vest thing that Stormcloaks wear, which was much lighter, and I put that on over. It was a long thing that almost went to my knees, and it was warm. In fact, the entire outfit looked a size too large. I was lucky the dead man wasn't bigger, and that there was a belt to put over the whole thing. Lastly, there was a small satchel with nothing in it which was disappointing, but at least I now had something to carry stuff in. When he went to help me tie the blue cloth around me though, I denied it.

"I don't think so, friend." I push the cloth away, "It's probably better that we don't look like rebels right now."

He accepted this but didn't take off his own. As I picked up the spare iron axe he spoke up again, "Now that we got you some armor, give that axe a few swings while I see if I can find some way out of here."

It was lighter than expected, simple, and a little blunt, but it would have to do.

' _Wait… what?'_ I thought, _'What am I thinking? Am I just going to become some axe wielding maniac who kills men just because they looked at me? If I got in a fight right now, I'd be killed in seconds! I don't even want to fight-!'_ It was then I noticed Ralof didn't have a weapon, and it was then I realized that the game had many more plot holes than I thought.

"Hold on Ralof. You and I both know I'm no Stormcloak. I've never even killed a man before. Here." I said as I followed him over to a gate, giving him the axe.

Finding out the gate was locked, he turned around and accepted the weapon. Then looked me in the eye with an eyebrow quirked up and asked, "Aren't you angry about being nearly beheaded?"

"Not enough to take someone's life, no. I doubt there is anyone following us either."

"You are forgetting that there are probably more Imperials further in, and Hadvar and your friend are around here somewhere."

"Hadvar helped us just like you did, he isn't an enemy, and neither is Hroðr."

"Don't you understand? Hadvar sided with the Imperials, a traitor to Nord's like us!"

"Sides? There is a damned dragon outside!" As if timed, a loud booming sound resonated through the keep. I continued, "The only sides I see right now is dragons against men. I bet Hroðr is saying the same thing to Hadvar right now. If you two let go of your war just this once, we may just get out of here alive."

Ralof relented, "Hmph, fine. Your reasoning has merit. I will ease my axe as long as Hadvar does the same."

As soon as he finished, we heard footsteps coming from a hallway with a gate blocking the doorway. I ignored Ralof as he hid and told me to find cover. Standing in front of the gate I watched as two figures jogged towards me.

"Hroðr?" I called out.

"Magnus!" A familiar voice called back.

"Wait!" Another voice which sounds like Hadvar yells, but Hroðr pushed on ahead and jogged up to the gate, into the light. He was wearing standard Imperial leather armor, helmet, and boots, but without the wide chainmail collar that Hadvars had around the neck and back. He also had an iron sword in a sheath strapped to his hip.

"Are you okay?" Hroðr asked.

"Physically. You?" I respond.

"Me too, but let's talk about how crazy this all is later." He looked into the room, eyes furrowed, "Where's Ralof?"

"Being dumb."

"Hey!"

"Anyways, I convinced him to stand down as long as Hadvar does."

Hadvar catches up at this, "Really? How'd you manage that?" He asked, bewildered.

Ralof sighed as he walked out from his cover, "He made a good point. So, you going to attack me as soon as we get this gate open?" He said accusingly.

"No! We have bigger problems. Are you?" Hadvar snapped back.

"I just said I wouldn't!"

"Okay!" I said, interrupting them, "Hroðr, if you would."

"Yup." My friend goes to the pull-chain, but waits before he opens it to eye Hadvar for a moment. I looked at Ralof.

"What?" The two soldiers say in unison.

I rolled my eyes. Hroðr just sighed and pulled.

A second. Two.

' _Huh. Nice.'_

Letting out a sigh of relief, I clapped my hands which made the two Nords jump and said, "Let's get the He- Oblivion out of here."

Turns out Hadvar had the key to the other gate, no surprise from me. Before he unlocked it though, he turned to Ralof, "What's going to happen if we find more Stormcloaks? You going to stab me in the back?"

"I thought we were past this?" I groaned

"Wait Magnus, he's gotta point." Hroðr reasoned, "Would you be able to convince your friends to let Hadvar pass? I am sure they would understand with the dragon over our heads."

Ralof grunted, "Maybe. What about Hadvar?" He stared the Imperial down once more, "Going to turn your backs on us like you did to Skyrim?"

Hadvar sighed, "I am not going to waste time arguing, and I give you my word that I will try and make any Imperials we find see reason as long as you do the same."

"Aye, I can agree to that." The two soldiers gripped each other's forearms.

We started with a quick pace down some stairs and Hadvar started asking questions, "So, Magnus right?"

I answered, "Yep, and you are Hadvar."

"If you two weren't with Ulfric, what were you doing at the border?"

' _Good question. We can't say we were from anywhere in Skyrim, maybe Cyrodil?'_ As I thought, we turned a corner and discovered a collapsed hallway.

"We will tell you if we get out of here." I looked at Hroðr when I said this, he nodded. I turned to Ralof and said, "This is what that noise was, I bet."

"Dragon sure doesn't give up easy." Ralof sighed.

"Huh, I was just going to say exactly that." The other soldier decided to input. He went for a door to the left just before the rubble. I tensed, knowing what should be beyond that door. When Hadvar opened it and walked in though, there was nobody there like I expected. We all walked in and looked around. It was a medium sized room, to the right was an area for storing barrels, and to the left was an eating area with a dining table and fireplace with a cooking spit.

"An old storeroom." "A storeroom." The two soldiers announced in unison. They looked at each other, confused. Hroðr and I did the same.

"Wonder if this place will be empty." I said, giving a pointed look at my scrawny friend.

"I hope so"

"Only one way to find out." Ralof said.

"Let's see if we can find some potions. Might come in handy." suggested Hadvar as he went over to the far right side to search in some barrels. Ralof picked up a knapsack and started stuffing it with food. I went to the barrel that I expect to have most of the potions, but upon opening it, I was shocked to find it empty. I looked to a table to my right and I found that the other health potion was missing too. Luckily, Hroðr found the Magicka potion and the health potion that sat on the shelves next to the dining table. He walked over to me and looked into the empty barrel.

Stating the obvious, at least to me, he said, "Uhhh, that's probably not good."

"Damn right." I ran my hand through my long hair, and announced to the group, "We should proceed with caution."

"Aye." Hadvar said walking over to us, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "Take a look at this."

He led us to another door that led back into the hallway past the rubble. Problem was, it was wide open. Ralof walked over, knapsack strapped to his back, "Done? Let's get moving."

* * *

We headed down some more stairs, the air smelled of earth, dust, and a mix of bodily fluids. There were no sounds of any struggle, but we moved with caution anyways. Coming to a room we found three large cages, but a wall blocked the view to the right of the stairs. Rounding the corner was a passage leading to the left after the cages, a small table with a knapsack, dagger, and a book on it. There were also mechanisms used for torture, and a caged off part of the room used as some kind of guard post, but the group wasn't focused on any of that. They were more focused on the recently dead Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers on the floor, and a torturer sitting on the floor slumped against the wall, tired and bleeding.

"Troll's blood! A torture room." Ralof exclaimed upon viewing the room, then he saw the bodies, "Shor's bones, we were too late, damn this conflict."

"Gods, I wish we didn't need these." Hadvar spoke with a frown and a tone of disappointment, then he found the bleeding man and said, "Hold on. One of them is still breathing."

"You-" The torturer coughed up some blood, took only a glance at Hadvar then looked back to his lap then continued, "-fellows sure took your sweet time. These boys seemed rather upset at how I'd been entertaining their comrades."

"You all couldn't hold back from fighting while there is a dragon attacking?!" I yelled at him, upset at all the wasted lives.

"A dragon? Please-" He coughed again, and looked up and focused on us, "Don't make up nonsense… Wait. Boy!" Another cough, "Come out here."

Coming out of his hiding spot, the torturer's assistant walked cautiously out of the guard post. Then he saw Ralof and I behind Hadvar and Hroðr and took his sword out, "Why is there a Stormcloak with you?"

"I knew it, damn eyes, they are traitors!" The torturer coughed out, "Kill them!"

Hadvar put his palms out, "Wait! I am not a traitor! We are just trying to get away from the dragon outside!"

I moved slowly over to the table while the assistant hesitated. The torturer looked to him and yelled out, "Whelp! Now is not the time for your hesitance!"

"Hey." I spoke up, "Look, we don't want to fight, but we will if we have to." I said while I grabbed the dagger and held it at the ready.

Ralof walked up to the assistant, axe lowered but tense, "We outnumber you milk-drinker, don't do anything stupid."

The torturer looked at Hadvar and coughed, "Tch, Die!" He brought his hand up and lightning, miraculously, shot out of his palm and streamed into Hadvar. The soldier's body locked up, he grit his teeth and fell to the floor. Then Hroðr with his iron sword rushed at him, but the man was ready and shot a stream into my friend, making him cry out.

At the sound, everything seemed to slow. Blood rushed to my head, I moved to Hroðr as he fell to the floor. The torturer was distracted by putting Ralof to the floor and hot rage coursed through me. Instinctively I brought my hand up mimicking the injured bastard and feeling of burning energy flowed from my chest down my arm. With a roar, fire burst from my palm, like a flamethrower, flying across the room onto the man who hurt my only friends in this world.

The torturer let out an ear splitting scream, lighting up like a match. The sound would haunt me for quite a while, but at the time I didn't care. I let the man have it till the energy ran out. He was probably dead a second or two after it started, but I never found out.

The assistant just stood there in shock while my friends groaned in pain. I looked at him with a fierce glare. Immediately he dropped his weapon and put his hand up. I lowered my arm and dropped to Hroðr's side. He was still holding the potion bottles and I grabbed the health one, opened it and shakily brought it to his lips.

"Drink." I commanded. My friend, stubborn and confused, tightened his lips. I shouted, "Hroðr! It's me, with a health potion."

Uneasily he opened his mouth and took a sip, he paused, then started chugging. A warm glow went through him, barely visible on his skin. He relaxed, opened his eyes and said slowly, "That's good."

I let out a bark of laughter, then laid onto my back, exhausted.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I burned him." I said flatly.

"You what?" He sat up and looked at the steaming burnt corpse of the torturer and gasped, "Oh shit."

Hadvar and Ralof finally got up and took in the scene. Ralof walked over to me, stuck his hand out and said, "It seems I always find you laying around."

I brought my hand up and he grasped me by the forearm and pulled me up to my feet, but he didn't let go, I looked at him confused. He laughed and said, "Friend, none of us expected him to be a mage. It seemed you saved us all this day."

"Uhhh, I just did what anyone would have." The sluggish words slurring out of my mouth.

Ralof let go, "Nonsense, you told me you've never killed a man before, that took strength. I think I speak for the three of us when I say that we owe you one."

Hadvar took the Magicka potion from Hroðr and handed it to me and said, "Drink this, I am sure you need it." He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "He's right. You saved us and I feel guilty for all of this, I think I owe you more than just one."

I didn't know what to say, so I just drank the potion. The energy that I felt from before came back a portion, and I felt it slowly grow. ' _So this is Magicka… woah.'_ I thought. I began to smell an awful burnt smell, and then the realization of what I had done flooded into me. I felt sick, so I turned away and started to spit on the floor, doing what I usually do to avoid puking.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hadvar said.

I nodded and Ralof spoke, "He probably just realized. I would say it gets easier, but it's more like you just get used to it."

"Why does it smell so bad?" I groaned and gagged.

"Well you did burn the poor bastard to death."

"Magnus look at me." I looked up and Hroðr was there, he put his hands on each of my shoulders, "It's okay. You did what you had to."

We looked at each other for a long moment. I nodded sharply and turned and spat to the side one last time, gathering my strength. I stood up tall and looked around, "Well let's get what we can and get out of here. I don't want to look at this room any longer than I have to."

With that we started looking around. The assistant waited near the exit out. I walked up to the burnt body, I sighed with a pain in my chest, knowing this will only be the first. In any world, there will always be some people who don't know anything besides fighting. I vowed right then and there to always try and avoid ending lives. I noticed the shine of a steel dagger barely a foot away from the charred remains. I picked it up and wiped the small amount of blood off from the dagger's previous fight. It was longer than my forearm. _'You could basically call it a shortsword... or a long dagger... whatever.'_ I went into the guard cage and found some books, lockpicks, a random assortment of things that usually weren't there, including what I was looking for, a scabbard for a dagger. I put the steel dagger inside, surprisingly it fit, and gathered the few lockpicks that were there. On the wall was an iron mace and iron shield which I took to see if Hroðr wanted it.

Walking out of the cage I found that Hroðr somehow picked the lock of the cage with the mage inside. I walked over and said, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Just now." He said smugly, "Hadvar helped me."

"Don't ask." The soldier said quickly while looking away and scratching the back of his head.

"Ohhhkay." I offered up the shield to my friend, "Want this?"

"Sure." He took it from me and nearly dropped it, "Woah! That's heavy."

"Too heavy for you? Here." Ralof comes up from behind us with a hide shield that he got from his fallen comrades, "They probably would have wanted us to have this."

Hroðr takes the shield, testing its weight, "That is much better. Thank you."

"There is more where that came from, come on."

They go and search the bodies of the Stormcloaks and Imperials while I look inside the cage, Hadvar watching. Inside is an unhealthily skinny man in mage clothes, a spell tome, a small magicka potion, and a few gold coins. I check his pulse. Nothing. With a slight tightening in my chest I turned my head to look at Hadvar and asked, "How long do you think he's been dead."

"Well, let's see here. I am no healer, but… " Hadvar came into the cage and pushed the man on his back, "...Pale..." He felt the dead man's hand, "...Cold..." He felt the bicep and the pectoral muscles, then moved the arm up and down, "...And stiff, but no signs of any real decay. He probably died overnight."

"You mind if I take his stuff?" I asked, a little relieved.

"Go ahead," He walked out of the cage and faced away.

I quickly, but carefully, took off the dead mage's robes. It wasn't too hard, heavy and stiff, but I got what I needed. Before I put on the tunic and realized that I could keep the chainmail on and under it. Knowing that I should get used to the feel of it, I kept it and threw the tunic on over it. Taking off the ragged pants, I quickly put on the nicer pants the mage had. _'Don't ask what I found under it.'_ I put my fur boots back on and got to work on the forearm wraps which were thick, surprisingly soft, and technically long enough for my whole arm but I just double wrapped them like the mage had them up to my elbow.

While I did this, Hadvar asked, "So… You're a mage?"

"Not exactly. In this instance, I wasn't trying to do _that_."

"Well, no judgements here. To each their own, right?" He sounded awkward, I remembered that he grew up in Skyrim. Nords don't like magic for some reason. He had more questions though, "If you are not a mage, why can you wield fire like one? And why are you putting on mage robes?"

"I said that I would tell you later." I said disgruntled. I needed to talk to Hroðr so we could agree upon a backstory before I could say anything concrete. Hadvar didn't continue with his questions as I put on the rest of the robes. I never knew that the hood and the large collar thing that was on the novice robes was leather. It was lightweight and soft, probably not very durable, but it probably helped with the weather. The actual robe part that went over the shoulder and everything had a slight shine to it. Upon a closer look, the leather did too, and I could see small, faintly glowing symbols every so often on the soft materials. Finally, I tied the sash around my waist, fastened the long belt on over it, tucked the extra length away, and put on the satchel that had some gold coins and two magicka potions in it. Stowing away the extra magicka potion, gold coins, and spell tome that laid next to the mage, I said to Hadvar, "All done, let's see what they found."

They found that the dead Imperials were the ones that are usually found in the other room. Hroðr knew that because they had a bag of potions that were most likely from that barrel they were usually in. One of them had the studded version of their light armor, so Hroðr exchanged those particular pieces, and took the light bracers. Ralof gave me some fur gloves that one of the Stormcloaks had, which fit snugly on my hands and over the wraps I now had. I went over to the small table and flung the mostly empty knapsack over my back. In it went the quilted leather thing I took off, the iron mace, the iron dagger, the two books I found with the scabbard, and the five health and three stamina potions that were found.

On that small table which had the knapsack I found a book called _The Book of the Dragonborn_ , I showed the others and said flatly, "What a coincidence."

"Dragonborn? Do you think there could be one in this age?" Ralof asked me seriously.

I looked at him with the best confused face I could manage and said, "How should I know?"

He looked away, probably embarrassed, but I couldn't tell. "Hmph, whatever, let's go."

Putting the book into my satchel with the spell tome, we finally set off down the exit hallway, following behind the assistant who was unarmed. I took up the rear with Hroðr and whispered to him, "How do you feel?"

"I think I should be asking you that." He said, exasperated, "I'm fine, that health potion felt great."

"Yeah? Don't get too attached to it." I elbowed his arm and teased him, "Don't want Mr. Alcoholic here getting addicted or anything."

"You're one to talk." He shot back, then he looked thoughtful and asked, "You think potion addiction is a thing?"

"Remember skooma?"

"Ah jeez, that's right."

"Don't worry, we will be fine."

"You just jinxed us."

"Fuck."

* * *

After the hallway was a room with small cages with human skeletons in them, to which Ralof said a short prayer to. One wall had a hole in it, for some reason, that led into a cave. This led to a medium sized empty cavern with some old stone architecture which eased some of my tension. Usually there were soldiers in here, but I guess that was purely game stuff. We got to the tunnel with the wooden bridge and lever. After we got through the tunnel collapsed behind us, but there was no reason to turn back anyways so we pushed on. We found a coin purse on a skeleton and the soldiers insisted we took it, so I just put it in the satchel. Then we found the room with the frostbite spiders.

We stopped at the entryway into the open cavern. The only light came from the torches we had found before we entered the cave part, and with that we could see the webs lining the surface of the walls and ceiling. Oddly, there was a clear path from our entryway to the exit, or cave tunnel, to the left. I moved to the front to get a better view. I looked up and saw the large holes I knew the adult ones would come from. The small ones were on the other side of the cavern, frozen still. I made a snap decision, and took off running to the exit.

"Run!" I yelled. I stuck my torch out in front of me so I didn't trip. Then directed a palm to my right and blindly fired at the spiders.

There was a curse and a scramble behind me, but very quickly I heard their footsteps following me. In seconds we were in the tall tunnel, it went down slightly and opened up to a different room after a few meters. In the other room I immediately ducked to the right and prepared myself at the mouth to attack any spiders that chased after. Hroðr, Ralof, then Hadvar passed me, then seeing me, prepared their weapons.

The assistant was a little behind and tripped right before the exit, peering around I saw something slimy on his back, then a small spider jumped on top of him and bit the back of his neck. I let loose a torrent of flames at the spider then Hadvar lurched forward and stabbed it through the head, then kicked it off the poor man. The thing was dead, and I prepared a flame to aim up the tunnel, only to see an adult one, too big for the whole looking at me. Its head reared back and I took cover, the spit landed on the collapsed assistant, but the man didn't react.

I backed away from the tunnel, shaking my head quickly, "Damn, he's dead." My voice shook a little.

"Then let's just get out of here!" Ralof yelled.

"We can avenge him later, come on." Hadvar said, pushing me to go.

We went over a natural bridge over a stream that ran through the cavern. It was long and at the end we could see a bear sleeping under a hole that shined light from the surface. There was a way to the left leading out, but we would have to sneak past. We paused for a moment.

"Hold up. I'd rather not tangle with her right now." Ralof whispered to us.

"Let's try to sneak by." Hadvar whispered back, "Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step."

We quietly snuck to the left till the bear was out of view behind some rocks. We heard some movement, so we quickly moved out and through another tunnel ahead of us. It led left and we could see daylight at the end.

We cheered and sprinted the last stretch to the fresh, open air of Skyrim.

We made it.

* * *

_Phew! Finally! Now the good stuff can begin... Sort of. Next time there's going to be quite a lot of explaining to do. To you, to Ralof and Hadvar, and probably a number of other people. But! Was I sure glad to get out of that damn keep, and I bet you were too. See you next time listeners!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much freaking research for this damn game. Why isn't there more information what the damn clothes are made of? I want Magnus to get into Enchanting, but any information Bethesda gives is as vague as I am with how my characters look! Hope you all liked it, have a good one!


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